[EXT. COMMUNITY PARK – LATE AFTERNOON]
It’s a quiet Tuesday. SAM, a laid-back guy in his 30s, is jogging through the park, earbuds in, half-focused on the run and half-watching squirrels chase each other across the path.
Suddenly—THUMP.
Sam trips over something soft, stumbles, and barely catches himself before hitting the ground. He yanks out an earbud and looks down.
At his feet: a tiny, shivering baby rabbit, no bigger than his palm, blinking up at him.
SAM (gasping):
Oh my God… I almost flattened you, dude!
The rabbit doesn’t move—just lies there in the grass, weak and alone.
Sam glances around. No nest. No mom. Just him, the rabbit, and the sound of distant sprinklers.
[INT. VET CLINIC – AN HOUR LATER]
Sam sits in the waiting room, still in his workout gear, holding a shoebox with holes poked in the top.
RECEPTIONIST:
Name of the patient?
SAM (looking at the box):
Uhh… I guess… “Hopkins”? Temporary. Unless he sues me later.
[EXT. SAM’S APARTMENT – NIGHT]
The box now sits on Sam’s desk, lined with a towel, a heating pad beneath it. The baby rabbit is gently curled up, finally sleeping.
SAM (voiceover):
Didn’t plan on saving a life today.
Didn’t even plan on tripping.
But maybe some things happen on purpose… even when they don’t.
